


Watercolour

by basketcasewrites



Category: Panic! at the Disco, Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Band, Amazing, Author josh, Band Fic, Bandom - Freeform, Beautiful, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Emo, Falling In Love, Long-Term Relationship(s), M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Pain, Painting, Read this you wont regret it, read this, relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-27
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-08-31 09:15:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8572747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/basketcasewrites/pseuds/basketcasewrites
Summary: Sometimes people just inspire you. Sometimes things are just meant to happen. Sometimes "I love you" isn't enough.





	1. "... you are lovely ..."

**Author's Note:**

> This began as a one-shot, but I got inspired. Also posting this on wattpad and I'm scared out of my mind :D ... Anyway, this first chapter (yes, its a chapter now), has been extended and I'm working on the second one now... Name of the fic was Walk Away but I thought it was kinda blah so now it's called Watercolour.

It's difficult not to believe in a higher power when creatures like him exist. Dark eyes that accompanied dark hair and delicate features --- da Vinci could never have done it better. There was an air about him. An air of mystery that enveloped his every being. A look in his eyes that told you, without words, that there was a deeper story than you could ever begin to imagine. A force so powerful it drew you in, lured you. Made your heart long for his attention, long to know the secrets he held within him. Made your heart long for even a glance, for less. Made your heart long for him.

"I'm sorry, sir." The voice of a stranger breaking through his reverie. "Are you okay? Do you need any help?"

Josh smiled thinly at the attendant, dismissing her. How long had he been sitting here? Four hours exactly -- the time passing without him noticing. 

He looked up at the stranger he had been admiring, inhaled deeply, holding it for a long time before letting it go. Wildly, he shook his head, forcing any stray thoughts away. Longingly he looked at the man, wanting nothing more than to reach out his hand and touch him. Wanting nothing more than to return everyday for the rest of eternity just to see him. Knowing in his heart he could not ever return, not even one more time. He was already growing too attached to the beautiful man in the painting.

* * * *

"Where've you been?" Brendon asked, meeting him at the front door of their apartment. As much as tried to mask it, the worry he felt was apparent.

"Getting inspired." Josh smiled mysteriously. Quietly, he closed the door behind him. He slipped out of his jacket before kissing his boyfriend lightly on the cheek.

"You were at the gallery, again? Weren't you?" his eyes flashed, darkly. Accusatory tones running deeply through each word. "You know, I just don't get your attachment to this painting."

"You're jealous."

"I am not! It's just that, what's so special about it anyway? It's just some stupid portrait of some guy."

"It's not stupid. Okay?" Josh lowered his voice -- not wanting to hurt anyone. His cheeks burned with embarrassment as he mumbled below his breath, "And I don't know what it is, but... He just inspires me. It's as if he's the only thing that does."

Brendon's breath hitched slightly as each word was spoken, a deep sigh escaping from him. He spun around hurriedly, walking away from the beautiful boy.  
Josh followed behind him, entering their kitchen. 

"Beeb," he whispered, laying a hand on Brendon's shoulder as he stood with his back to him. Each knuckle was white as he gripped onto the edge of the kitchen sink.

"I'm not jealous." his voice shook. "I just can't help remembering when, once upon a time, I was the only thing that could inspire you."

Josh bit down on his lip. Remaining silent, he worked on each finger on Brendon's hand -- lovingly prying them away from the edge.

"Its different, Bren." Josh whispered into his ear once he had loosened his grip. "When I look at you... I think sweet, passionate love stories. But people are getting tired of that -- people are getting tired of me. When I look at him... I think deep, dark stories. Stories with twisted endings and unbelievable plots.  
You're lovely, Bren. And he just isn't..."

Brendon shoved the soft hands away wrenching himself out of their strong grasp. 

"It still hurts." he said over his shoulder as he walked out of the room. His words were ice cold.


	2. "... hey, stranger ..."

He was so beautiful  --  Josh. Something far beyond beautiful; if that even existed.

Brendon cracked a window open as the heat in the car became unbearable. He leaned his head back against the seat, closing his eyes lightly. Images of Josh showed randomly behind his eyelids, his own mind playing against him. 

He clenched his fists tight, digging his nails deep into the flesh of his palm. Memories raced through his mind, blurring into one another. For the moment, no longer making any sense, his frantic brain jumbling them together. 

His fists unclench slowly, deep indentations in his skin from his smooth nails. In these moments when his world feels like it is about to collapse into peices, there is only one thing  calms him down. And that one thing, is Josh.

The irony of the moment doesn't escape Brendon when he begins to think of that very first time that he ever laid eyes on Josh Dun.

                *                   *                   *                  *                *

"I'm on my way!" Brendon shouted into the phone jammed against his ear. "I swear to God  --  I'm like two blocks away."

"Just hurry up, Brendon! You're going to be late!" His boss yelled at him one last time before hanging up. 

Brendon let out a short huff of exasperation. Quickly he tucked his phone into his pocket. Checking twice to make sure it was secure. 

Sure, Brendon understood why he was angry : he had every right to be. Though Brendon may have undoubtedly been one of the best on the team, it meant absolutely nothing if he kept showing up late for venues.

"It's not my fucking fault that the line was so long," he grumbled under his breath as he hurried his pace. "I just wanted my fucking morning coffee."

Quickly, he glanced at his wristwatch, mentally psyching himself up when he saw that he only had five minutes left. He adjusted his small bag of equipment. Freeing up the space around his legs so that they wouldn't hit against it as he ran.

 

He doubled up in front of the hotel, completely out of breath. Once again he checked his watch. Cheering quietly to himself at his punctuality.

Brendon straightened up, walking briskly into the lobby without a hitch in his step. He made his way over to the taller man pacing worriedly from end to end of the room.

"You owe me," he monotoned. "I just ran a ten minute distance in, wait for it, not six, not five, but four fucking minutes."

"I do not owe you anything. I'm your boss." Ryan Ross said, looking down at him, annoyed. Voice thick with sarcasm, he rolled his eyes as he added, "Congratulations on doing your job."

Ryan turned around without a backward glance, taking long strides towards the main hall. Brendon followed, trying to match their paces but lagging behind. 

The smell of fresh cut flowers hit him the moment he entered the large room through the elaborate double doors. A smile played on his lips at the sight of the decorations.

"What a beautiful wedding," he said, directing his comment to Ryan who was not even listening. 

Everything, as far as could be seen, was adorned darkly. Black and splashes of red everywhere. 

"Is the bride Goth, or something?" he asked Ryan, they had stopped in a corner of the hall where all the equipment was laid out.  
Ryan raised his right eyebrow at Brendon. Okay, okay; Brendon will admit that he should've already known this. But he'd been too distracted to actually read up anything about today's event. 

"There is no bride, Bren." Ryan spoke slowly, as if he were speaking to a small child. "There is a groom, and if you ask him he'd say his dead."

 

Ryan more or less left him alone after that, socialising with guests and sometimes coming to check on him. Brendon loved the atmosphere  --  everything was so natural -- which wasn't something he usually said about weddings. He moved around the room, feeling like more than just a photographer as people engaged him friendly conversation and happily posed for their photographs.  
By far, his favourite pictures of the night were of the newlyweds  -- he'd found out their names, Frank and Gerard. They couldn't keep their eyes off each other, and couldn't keep smiles off their faces. It was beautiful.

Brendon stood, once again, in the corner of the room. His head bent low as he cleaned the camera lens. The party had quieted down a bit as they sat to eat dinner. 

Bringing it back to his eye he panned the camera over each table. Taking half hearted pictures even as he searched for a great one. 

Even if you ask him now, he swears that his heart stopped beating for a minute -- maybe even two. He hadn't needed to go searching for the perfect picture, because as all great things tend to do, it found him.

He lost track of how many times he clicked the shoot button. Image upon image of a gorgeous red haired, pierced, tattooed stranger filling the memory. 

 

"Its rude, you know?" Brendon heard from behind him as he was packing the equipment into the back of Ryan's car. He turned to face whoever was speaking to him, a blush creeping up his cheeks and staining him red as he locked eyes with the stranger from earlier. "Incredibly rude, not to mention creepy, when you take pictures of a stranger without them knowing."

Brendon stared at him blankly, usually the one to never stop speaking, he couldn't think of a single word. 

"But it seems that you did know," he said, lamely. His words earned him a smile from the stranger. "Do I get to know your name now?"

A smile brightened up the bright haired boys face, his eyes creasing at the corners. 

"Josh. Joshua Dun." he stuck out his right hand. "And yours?

"Brendon. Brendon Urie." he replied, grasping Josh's hand in his own. Reluctantly, they parted hands.

"I'd like to see them," he said, lowering his voice. "The pictures you took I'd like to see them."

"Of course... You should give me your number then." Brendon urged, jumping on his chance. "So I can contact you when they're ready."

Josh smiled shyly up at him, taking Brendon's phone from his hands and putting his number into it, sending himself a text so that he'd have Brendon's.

"Bye, Bren." He threw over his shoulder as he walked away. Not far from the Brendon he stopped, twisting his body slightly he smiled at the other man. "And, Brendon, if you ever want to take pictures of me again... Just call."

Brendon stood by the open trunk of the car, watching as Josh slowly disappeared from sight.

A smile played on his lips at the thought of the stranger who had caught him.

 

                    *               *              *             *             *

 

He smiled fondly at the memory as it played and faded. 

Josh had always been so beautiful. Beyond beautiful -- so much more beyond beautiful. 

Brendon tightened his hands around the steering wheel and started the car. As quickly as he could he began to drive back home.  
He knew how to fix this.


	3. "... i'm obsessing all these questions ..."

Josh: where are you??

Brendon: ....

Josh: Bren?..

Josh: can you please...

Josh: can you please just come home so we can talk?...

Josh: don't do anything stupid :)

Josh: sorry, that didn't come out right...

Josh: you're not stupid, okay? promise <3

 

      Calling Beebo

     .   .   .

      Call Forwarding

     .   .   .

       Call Cancelled

 

Josh: ....

Josh: okay, that's the sixth time I've tried to call you now...

Josh: I'll stop now...

Josh: just... be safe, okay?

Josh: ...and please... please, come home safely... 

Josh: and Bren, for what it's worth... I'm sorry.

Josh: and dinner's waiting for you when you come back.

 

Calling Beebo

.   .   .

Call Forwarding

.   .   .

    Call Cancelled

 

Josh:  okayy. i know i promised I wouldn't call...

 

Josh:  but I can't help it. 

Josh: so, i'm worried... shoot me.

Josh: no, actually. please don't.

Josh: okay, done now.

Josh: ..i love you

Josh: ohkayyy. now i'm done.

 

                 *              *             *            *              *             *

He held the blankets tightly wrapped around himself. Burrowing deeper into the nest, gathering enough warmth from it as he could. 

It had been so long since he had slept without Brendon by his side, each of them feeding of off the others body heat, holding each other till they fell asleep.  
The thought had never once crossed Josh's mind that he would ever have to sleep without him again.


	4. "... i can't seem to find my way home tonight ..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Already have up until chapter nine written (yayyy!!) It's going to take me a bit longer to update here, but I promise I will.  
> Anyway, feedback would be appreciated -- tell me what you think. Okay, thanks, bye.

Driving in endless circles. Countless hours passing by without him even noticing. No differences between this building and the one after, each of them blending into a massive brown wall. Every neighbourhood looking exactly as every other neighbourhood. 

The monotony of the surrounding world both bored and angered him. Brendon's hands were clammy from where he had been gripping the steering wheel too tightly, leaving an outline of his palm in the leather covering.

The constant vibrating of his phone on the seat beside filled the enclosed space of the car, driving him crazy.

He knew it was Josh, and he didn't have the strength to face him right now. He had no idea why he had to face him, but he knew he wasn't strong enough.

Brendon grabbed a jacket from the backseat of the small car, throwing it over the phone in order to muffle it. 

He had planned to go home ages ago -- believe him, he had. The entire reason he had started driving again had been to go home. 

Reaching the road of their apartment building, he angled his foot towards the brake, completely prepared to park. Completely prepared to walk into the cramped insect infested apartment that was their home. 

But, he didn't press down on the brake. No, in fact he did the complete opposite. He pressed down on the accelerator. Speeding pass the building leering at him menacingly in the dark, driving away from the forecoming confrontation.

Brendon pulled deeply on the cigarette; filling his lungs with the smoke and riding on the sudden rush of nicotine.  
His left hand held firmly around the steering wheel. 

The quaint houses of an unfamiliar suburb stood on either side of the road. White picket fences, delicately manicured lawns, swing sets and happy families behind closed doors -- postcard fucking perfect.

He drove blindly. No longer aware of where he was, or where he was going -- even if he was going anywhere. 

Another damaging puff of the strong cigarette. 

This is exactly what he fucking wanted. What he needed. To be completely and utterly lost. To not know up from down or left from right. 

Brendon rubbed his right hand over his eyes, holding the cigarette between his middle and index fingers.

What's wrong with me? Am I losing it slowly?

He glanced at the dashboard clock. Wincing slightly at the numbers he read. It was two in the morning.

"Fuck," he grumbled under his breath. The lack of sleep hitting him at the realisation of the time.

At least I'm not losing it... Yaayy... Just exhausted.

* * * * * * *

What had happened to him? The question played itself over and over in his mind as Brendon lay on his back in their shared bed, staring at the cracked and peeling ceiling.

What had happened? What had happened? What had happened?

An obvious creaming in his brain whenever he closed his eyes.  
A persistent whisper in his ears when they were open. His subconscious mind hungry for answers even as he would rather gladly sweep it under the rug. He had barely had a single moment of rest. 

The sound of the sweet, shallow breathing coming from beside him did nothing to calm his frantic mind. Where usually it worked as a sort of lullaby, singing him to sleep on those seemingly sleepless nights, it had recently only worked in aggravating him more.

He turned on his side, slowly, careful of the springs poking out through the lumpy mattress. They lay, now, face to face.  
Brendon roamed his eyes over his boyfriends sleeping face. Taking in each curve, each line. Observing him as he always did.

"This is all your fault," he whispered, venomously. His lips turning down into a cruel scowl.

Immediately, he wrenched his eyes away from the sleeping man and turned himself around, facing his back to Josh. A hollow emptiness buried itself deep in the pit of his stomach at the mere thought of what he had just said.

If it hadn't been for Josh and his attachment to that painting, then they wouldn't have even argued in the first place.

Brendon exhaled loudly, peaking over his shoulder to make certain that he hadn't disturbed the other man. 

What am I thinking? another one of many questions sneaking into his train of thought. 

Why am I acting like this? Over a painting... A painting that he spends half the day staring at. A painting that he's skipped countless days of work to get inspiration from. A painting that inspires him so much more profoundly that I ever had.

This is exactly what I deserve. This is exactly what I deserve for caring about someone again. This is exactly what I deserve for giving him my all.

Once more, he exhaled deeply. Letting go of the duvet from where he had been gripping it in his clenched fists. He pulled his legs up to his chest, hugging himself close into a tightly curled ball.

He closed his eyes once again. Singing a constant song in his mind, blocking out the stray thoughts with its calming rhythm.

But sleep would not take him. Tears had strayed from his eyes, down his cheeks and stained the pillow. He never thought that he would feel so alone in a bed that he shared with someone he cared about.

Strong arms opened from behind Brendon, encircling him within their safety. Josh pulled him close to his body, holding him tightly.  
It was only then that Brendon realised that he been sobbing painfully loud the whole time.

"Sshh, Bren. Sshh." Josh whispered into his ear, holding him as close to his body as he could. Letting his tears fall and wiping them away as best he could.

"Hold me," Brendon struggled to choke out between sobs, he twisted in the arms that held him so that they were front to front.

He clung onto Josh's shirt, as he released the torrential rain that was his tears. 

He couldn't even remember exactly why he was crying anymore. All he knew was that Josh was holding and comforting him, even though Brendon himself had been a complete ass.  
All he knew was that he didn't deserve this beautiful man holding him in his arms, but he was so grateful that he was here and he hoped that he would never leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you guys want to support me on Wattpad you can just check me out at @rottenpaperclip (haha I use this name everywhere)


End file.
